


A Newt in Shining Armour

by Blizzard_Drift (Blizzard_Fire)



Category: Pacific Rim (Movies)
Genre: Ableist Language, Alcohol, BAMF Newton Geiszler, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Hermann Gottlieb needs a hug, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Nosebleed, Pre-Relationship, Protective Newton Geiszler
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-11
Updated: 2021-03-11
Packaged: 2021-03-14 00:42:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,070
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29909565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blizzard_Fire/pseuds/Blizzard_Drift
Summary: Hermann needs rescuing from a date gone sour. Time for Newt to play the protective boyfriend.
Relationships: Newton Geiszler/Hermann Gottlieb
Comments: 8
Kudos: 33





	A Newt in Shining Armour

**Author's Note:**

> So I read [this lovely fic](https://archiveofourown.org/works/998911) where Hermann rescues Newt from a bad date, and decided to turn the tables!
> 
> TW: Alcohol and slight drunkenness, mild violence/blood, one use of ableist language, typical Newt dissecting stuff

Newt is about to dissect an eyeball when the lab door opens. ‘Hey Herm,’ he says vaguely, perusing his tray of scalpels. ‘Ready to burn the midnight oil?’

Hermann sighs irritably. ‘I have told you not to call me Herm. Numerous times.’

Newt shrugs. ‘Whatever. Hey, if you’re making coffee I want one too. This is gonna be a long night.’ It’s 8pm, but they both tend to work late on Friday nights. It’s not like they have anywhere else to be. Newt is looking at the freshest Kaiju eye he’s ever seen, and he wants to do this right. The only problem is it keeps slithering away in his grip when he tries to hold it still.

A few moments later, he realises Hermann hasn’t moved. Instead he’s shuffling his feet awkwardly, as if he’s working up the nerve to say something. ‘I shan’t be staying,’ he says finally. ‘I only came by to let you know that I will be out tonight.’

Newt snorts. ‘Don’t you turn to dust if you’re outside after 4pm?’ Finally satisfied with his choice of scalpel, and pinning the eyeball down with most of his weight, he starts the first incision. ‘Why, you got a date or something?’

‘Actually, yes,’ Hermann says.

Newt stops mid-cut and finally looks up. Hermann is wearing a jacket that _isn’t_ dusted with chalk. Holy shit, he's serious. 'You're going on a – like a _romantic_ date-date?’

Hermann glares. ‘Is that so hard to believe?’

‘No, no. It’s just… well, you’re _you_. Doctor Hermann “Relationships-Interfere-With-My-Work” Gottlieb.’

‘Perhaps I wanted to change things up a little.’ He straightens his clothes self-consciously. ‘Anyway, my life outside of work is none of your concern. I only came to tell you I wouldn’t be here.'

Newt grins. ‘Aww, are you gonna hold hands and talk about calculus?’

Hermann turns on his heel. ‘Goodnight, Newton.’

'I want all the juicy deets tomorrow!' he calls after him. Hermann doesn't reply.

Newt rarely gets the lab to himself and he takes full advantage, blasting his music and yelling into his audio recorder. Tonight, there are no snide comments about his workplace cleanliness. It’s just Newt and his specimens, and he’s completely in his element.

So why does it feel like something is missing?

What, no smart comments today?’ he says. ‘No "please keep those entrails on your side of the room, Newton"?’ He taps his foot as he works, slicing up the flesh and sorting it into different dishes. ‘You should really come take a look, you know. This shit is so fucking cool.’

Naturally, Hermann doesn’t reply.

‘You know what? Even when you’re _not_ here, you’re annoying. I can still sense your hypothetical judgement. You know what your problem is, Hermann?’ He turns to face the empty side of the lab. ‘You’re too... urgh, I can’t believe I actually miss you.’ Annoyed, he turns back to his dissection. He’s not sure why the thought of Hermann getting close and personal with someone makes him feel so frustrated. He gets busy with the scalpel, determined to distract himself.

Sometime later, he’s making a particularly precise incision when his phone vibrates in his back pocket.

‘Shut up, Tendo,’ he mutters. Tendo’s always trying to coax him into Friday night drinks, usually with some of the rangers. Newt can’t stand most of them; soldiers with no brains, who care only about blowing the Kaiju to bits. Mako’s cool though.

With a sigh, he pulls off one glove and checks his phone. The text isn’t from Tendo. It’s from Hermann.

_I need you to call a cab._

Newt snorts. He texts back: _Y? Too drunk to call urself?_ It’s none of his business what Hermann’s up to, as Hermann so politely informed him. Newt doesn’t want any part in getting him laid.

He waits for a long moment, but Hermann doesn’t reply. Mystified, he sets the phone down, pulls on his gloves and resumes the dissection. One light press of the knife, and eye juice squirts enthusiastically down his shirt. ‘Shit...’

His phone vibrates again. And again.

‘Oh my god, _what?’_ Newt tosses down the scalpel and snatches it up.

_He’s too persistent. Wants to drive me home. Don’t trust him._

_Call cab ASAP._

It takes a moment for the message’s meaning to sink in, then a cold weight settles in Newt’s stomach. He throws down his gloves and grabs his jacket, shrugging it on over his sticky shirt. _Where ru?_

By the time he’s left the building, Hermann has texted him the address of a local bar. It’s only a fifteen-minute walk from here, less if he runs.

 _Omw_ , he texts back.

Even in the middle of the apocalypse, Hong Kong bustles with nightlife. Newt pushes his way through, yelling at the crowds that push him back. The usual “Move, I’m a doctor!” shtick has little effect, but a few well-placed elbows later he’s pelting down the narrow backstreets. He calls for a cab, not once slowing from his run, and by the time he reaches the bar it feels like his lungs are going to burst.

At least the bar is familiar. It’s swathed in blue and purple neon lights to hide the broken floorboards, but the drinks are cheap and some of the staff even speak English. They came here for Newt’s birthday last year (purely because he wanted to try their “Kaiju blue” cocktails, which were awful).

Newt scans the place, heart pounding. Sure, he and Hermann don’t get along much – well, at all – but he wouldn’t want anything to _happen_ to the guy. He feels sick. If something happens to him because Newt didn’t get here quick enough…

Then he spots them. Hermann sits in a secluded corner, one hand tightly gripping his cane as he smiles awkwardly at the man beside him.

Hermann’s date is handsome, in a rich guy sort of way. Expensive sweater, trimmed goatee, a smile full of white teeth. Everything about him projects an air of charm and confidence.

Newt hates him instantly.

The cab could be a while yet, but no way is he leaving Hermann to fend off this creep alone.

‘Fuck this,’ Newt mutters to himself, and then he’s striding across the bar, fists clenched, a smile plastered on his face.

When Hermann catches sight of him, his obvious surprise is quickly replaced with relief. There’s a silent plea in his eyes, in his pursed lips. ‘Newton – ‘

‘Hey babe, sorry I’m late.’ Newt winks back at him, then he sits down beside him, wraps an arm around him and kisses him on the cheek. ‘Traffic’s crazy. Have you seen how crazy it is?’

Hermann just frowns back at him. His gaze is a little unfocused; judging by the numerous empty glasses on their table, they’ve been here for a while.

Steeling himself, Newt finally looks over at Hermann’s date. ‘Who’s this, Hermie?’

The date frowns. ‘I was about to ask you the same question.’ And he’s British, too. As if Newt didn’t dislike him enough.

Hermann clears his throat. ‘This is Archie,’ he says evenly. ‘He’s – well, an acquaintance and – ‘

‘And who are you?’ Archie asks, one eyebrow raised.

Hermann squirms. ‘This is – he’s my – ‘

‘I’m his boyfriend,’ Newt says firmly, ignoring the little flutter in his chest when he says it. _I am his and he is mine._ It feels strangely natural, in the same way it feels natural to curl his arm a little tighter around his shoulders. _I got you, buddy._

Hermann relaxes a little. ‘Yes,’ he says, more confidently. ‘Newton is my – my boyfriend.’

‘I think there’s been a misunderstanding here,’ Archie says, icily. ‘I invited _Hermann_ here. Not you, short-arse.’

‘Well, the more the merrier, right? I’m a great drinking buddy. Ask anyone.’

Archie gives him a long, appraising look, taking in Newt’s stained shirt, ruffled hair and sweaty face. ‘You can’t be much of a boyfriend then, because we’ve been messaging for weeks and he’s never mentioned you.’

That one actually hurts. Not because Hermann hasn’t mentioned him, but because he’s messaged this dickwad more than Newt. Newt’s lucky if Hermann even _opens_ his messages. ‘Hey, I’m a good boyfriend,’ he says defensively.

Hermann fidgets. ‘Perhaps we’d better go...’

‘In a minute,’ Newt says softly. Where the fuck is the cab?

‘Hold on.’ Archie points at him, an incredulous smile on his face. ‘I _do_ know you. You’re Newton the Kaiju groupie, aren’t you?’ He leans towards Hermann. ‘He’s exactly how you described, even down to the squeaky voice. No wonder you came to me instead.’

Newt feels his cheeks flush. ‘Yeah, well he’s not staying any longer.’ His pocket vibrates. Thank fuck. ‘Come on, Hermann.’ He stands up.

Archie laughs. ‘Why don’t you scuttle off and play with your chemistry set?’ But his face falls when he sees Hermann shrugging his jacket on. ‘You can do a lot better than him, you know. Why don’t we take a drive, you and I?’ His tone of voice makes it sound more like an order than a request.

‘I shall make my own way home, thank you.’ Hermann seems to be having some difficulty standing up, his leg stiff from sitting down for too long.

‘You’re not going to be able to walk far. Come on. My way of making it up to you.’ And he smiles that white, white smile.

‘He already said no, asshole,’ Newt spits, grabbing Hermann’s cane from where it’s propped against the table and offering his arm. Hermann grips him tightly, his fingers biting into his arm. ‘Let’s go.’

He helps Hermann limp across the bar, not daring to look back. The cab is right outside, he just needs to get Hermann away from here and then he can untangle all these feelings in peace –

‘Oh, so suddenly you’re too good for me, are you?’ says Archie. He sounds close. ‘Well, I’m glad your Kaiju-loving boyfriend here came to the rescue. I’ve never had a more boring date in my life.’

Hermann’s jaw clenches, and his grip on Newt’s arm tightens a little more, but he says nothing, his eyes fixed on the door ahead.

‘Dude,’ Newt says, ‘I’m surprised he lasted more than five minutes with you.’

‘It would never have worked anyway,’ Archie continues, as if he hadn’t heard, ‘I mean, look at you. You dress like a geography teacher from the forties and you can’t even walk in a straight line! Quite honestly, when I first saw you I thought it was all a joke.’

Newt wants so desperately to turn back. They’re three quarters of the way there, and he can see the cab through the murky window. He glances worriedly at Hermann, and sees with a shock that he’s on the verge of tears.

‘You can dress as eccentrically as you like, but you’ll always be a cripple.’

Newt stops walking.

‘Newton, don’t,’ Hermann mutters, but Newt has already turned around.

Archie is smiling. ‘You can keep him. I don’t want damaged goods.’

Newt punches him in the face.

Archie staggers backwards, blood spurting from his nose onto his cashmere sweater. Newt experiences a joyous rush of adrenaline, momentarily forgetting that he’s five-foot-five-and-a-bit versus Archie’s six-feet-and-change.

The punch to his gut knocks the wind out of him and makes him double over with a retch. The cane clatters from his grasp, leaving Hermann to sway beside the wall. Before he can draw another breath, Archie’s fist meets his face. The force of it whips his head to the side and sends him crashing to the floor. The world turns blurry; his glasses are gone.

‘Well? No more smart comments?’ says Archie, breathing hard. By now half the bar has turned to watch, but no one wants to intervene.

‘Don’t you fucking talk to him like that,’ he tries to say, but it mostly comes out as coughing.

‘Are you threatening me, pipsqueak?’

‘Yeah, I am!’ With some difficulty, he straightens up and glares at the blurred mass of asshole in front of him. ‘I’m a biologist, motherfucker. I’ll dissect you a new asshole if you come near him again, got it?’

'Are you finished? Or do I need to punch some manners into you?’

‘That’s _quite enough of that!’_ Hermann shouts. The bar is now deadly silent. He’s leaning heavily on a chair, and having retrieved his cane is now brandishing it like a weapon. ‘Come along, Newton.’ He hooks his arm through Newt’s and starts walking them towards the door. ‘Thank you, Archie, for a truly unforgettable evening.’

Archie just laughs darkly and walks back to his table without another word.

Newt can barely see and Hermann can barely walk, but somehow they make it to the cab and haul themselves in. Hermann gives directions to the driver in halting Cantonese whilst Newt tries not to drip blood on the seats. His shirt now has some red spots to compliment the blue.

They stare awkwardly out of their respective windows. (Newt is practically blind without his glasses so he only pretends to stare out of the window.)

Hermann coughs. ‘Newton, that was… very brave,’ he says at last.

‘Don’t mention it, man. That guy was a total creep.’ He massages his stomach, wincing. As the adrenaline wears off, he becomes aware of the throbbing in his jaw, the bruises on his arm where Hermann gripped him. He’s not too mad about that last one though.

‘He seemed quite charming online – oh, you’re bleeding!’ Hermann gasps.

‘Yeah, that tends to happen when someone punches you in the face,’ he laughs. ‘Woah, hey – ’ Suddenly, there are hands cradling his face. Hermann’s fingers are cool against his skin. ‘What are you doing?’

Hermann gently turns his head to one side, then back again. ‘It doesn’t seem broken... hold still.’ And then he’s mopping at Newt’s face with a handkerchief. ‘He was nearly twice the size of you. Why did you hit him, you silly fool?’

‘Because he was an asshole!’ Newt nearly shouts. ‘I wasn’t going to stand there and listen to that shit! Fucking hate bullies.’ Newt has always been short, nerdy, weird and bespectacled. At school, the big kids had sniffed him out like prey; he’d learned to survive by joking along, laughing it off. There’s a reason why humour is his coping mechanism.

Hermann says nothing as he continues to clean up Newt’s bloody face. He’s close enough for Newt to smell the alcohol on his breath, close enough for him to see Hermann’s concerned expression.

‘So,’ Newt says, and his bleeding nose makes it sound like he has a cold, ‘Nice to know I’m the Kaiju groupie even to people I _don’t_ know.’

Hermann looks embarrassed. ‘I don’t make a habit of it. It came out during a bad day – do you remember that day when you dropped the Kaiju spleen on my desk?’

‘Yeah yeah I get it, I’m a nightmare. Gotta blow off steam to someone, right?’ This feels better. Stable ground. He knows where they are when they're insulting each other.

Newt tries to turn away, but Hermann just holds his face more firmly. 'Keep still, Newton. And don't pout. You can't pretend that you never complain about me.'

It's true, Newt moans about Hermann to anyone that will listen. He pouts anyway. 'When he said I was exactly how you described me I hope he meant sexy.’

Hermann huffs and shakes his head, continuing to mop him up.

Newt tries not to think delve too much into how he feels about Hermann. Better for everyone if they’re just the bickering lab partners. But tonight has awakened a protective streak he didn’t realise he had. It’s the same part of him that freaked out when Hermann fell off his ladder a few months ago. Hermann can look after himself, for the most part. But he doesn’t like to let others help him.

‘Newton?’ Hermann clicks his fingers in Newt’s face, and he startles. ‘You might have concussion. Let me look…’

‘Dude, I’m fine!' He bats Hermann's hands away as he tries to pull back his eyelid. ‘You think this is the first time I’ve picked a fight at a bar? I’ll be fine. Jeez.’

‘Hmm. Well, you’d better have these back.’ Hermann reaches into his pocket and slips Newt’s classes onto his face.

‘Oh.’ He blinks. ‘Thanks. You look better in HD.’

Hermann doesn’t smile. His hands are smudged with Newt’s blood and they shake as he clutches the handkerchief.

Newt is used to Hermann being angry, or moody, or (occasionally) begrudgingly cheerful. He doesn’t know how to deal with this Hermann. He looks so vulnerable. ‘Hey, are you okay man?’ he asks hesitantly. ‘He didn’t – he didn’t do anything to you?’

‘No, I’m fine. Thank you. I’m not sure what I would have done if you hadn’t been there.’ He smiles slightly. ‘Your jealous boyfriend act seemed rather well-rehearsed.’

He shrugs. ‘Used it a few times in the past. Hey um, sorry about the kiss on the cheek. Seemed safer to make it more believable.’

‘Yes, well.’ Hermann looks away, the tips of his ears turning red. ‘I should have known you were a method actor.’

Newt smiles shyly and looks away too. For the rest of the journey, he tries not to remember the warmth of Hermann’s cheek against his lips.

The Shatterdome is mostly deserted, although music drifts up from the mess hall. Everything about this feels off. Newt seldom sees Hermann outside the lab; it’s like seeing your teacher at Starbucks. He’s still fuming over Archie. Yes, Hermann is repressed, and eccentric, and he talks about numbers like they’re his friends. But… that’s what makes him _Hermann_. Archie has no idea how lucky he was. If Newt really _was_ Hermann’s boyfriend, he’d never –

Woah. That’s not a train of thought he’s going to let himself finish.

They walk up the winding metal staircase. Hermann gives him the handkerchief and he jams it under his nose. ‘Where did you even find that jerk, anyway?’ Newt mutters thickly.

Hermann sighs. ‘We met online, at a mathematics conference. He was one of the organisers. We emailed back and forth for a while, then he gave me his number.’ His voice has taken on that deep huskiness that he uses when he’s trying to keep his voice steady. They reach the top of the stairs. ‘He seemed wonderful. Then last week he said he would be visiting Hong Kong for a business trip. I told him I was rather… unpractised at this sort of thing. He – he was so reassuring and understanding and I…’

A few steps later, Newt realises that Hermann has stopped walking. He looks back. Hermann is leaning against the wall, a hand pressed over his eyes. His lips are pressed tightly together. ‘Oh Herm, it’s okay man.’

Hermann shakes his head, eyes still covered. They’ve known each other for – what, ten years? And in that time Hermann has never dated anybody. Newt’s not stupid. He knows tonight was a really big deal for him.

Fuck this whole night. Newt walks over to him, feeling awkward. ‘Uh, Hermann? I’m gonna hug you now. Okay?’ Hermann says nothing. ‘Alright. Coming in, here we go…’

He has to stretch up on tiptoe to wrap his arms around Hermann’s bony shoulders. Hermann remains rigid for a long moment, but then some of his tension seems to dissolve. He sighs shakily, resting his forehead on Newt’s shoulder. ‘I’m sorry,’ he mumbles, ‘this is ridiculous.’

‘Hey, no it’s not.’

‘I think Archie was right, I can’t seem to connect with people. I don’t know what I’m doing wrong.’

‘There you go again, making everything about you.’ Newt squeezes him gently. ‘ _You_ didn’t do anything wrong. _He_ did. Sometimes people suck.’ He pulls away before this can get too mushy.

Hermann stares back at him, eyes shining with unshed tears. Then he clears his throat and looks away. ‘Thank you, Newton,’ he says gruffly. ‘For going out of your way and – and for sticking up for me.’

Newt shrugs. ‘S’fine, dude.’

‘No, let me be frank for a moment. No one has ever stood up for me like that. Ever. It was a foolish thing to do, but… I appreciate the gesture.’

Just for a moment, Newt envisions a much younger Hermann, endlessly picked on at school for his shyness, his eccentricities, his limp.

For all their differences, they both know what it’s like to crave acceptance.

They’re still standing very close to each other. Newt’s feeling all kinds of mixed up emotions and it doesn’t help that Hermann is as open as he’s ever seen him. Tonight, there's no tape line between them.

Their eyes meet. It would be easy, so easy to close the gap between them, to brush his lips over Hermann's and tell him everything. It's so tiring sometimes, to pretend he doesn't care.

But Hermann is drunk and upset, and Newt isn't an asshole. This isn’t the time. So all he does is walk Hermann to his door and say, 'You gonna be okay from here?' Newt has been in Hermann’s room only once, and that was to put him to bed after they both got wasted last Christmas. He hadn’t lingered.

'For heaven's sake, I'm not _plastered_ , Newton,' Hermann grunts, fumbling with his keys. 'I shall be fine.'

‘Okay. Fine. Good.’ He lowers the handkerchief from his nose. ‘I’ll uh, keep this for now.’

Hermann hesitates in the open doorway, a strangely soft expression on his face. ‘I expect you to wash it first,’ he says finally.

Newt laughs. ‘You want me to iron it too?’

Then the door is closed, and he’s on his own. Newt deflates, wincing as he presses a hand to his belly. He’s going to be bruised up for a few days, but it was worth it.

Only when he flops into bed does he remember his half-dissected eyeball. Kaiju guts tend to preserve themselves once they dry out, no biggie. Hermann’s lucky Newt cares so much. He can’t even be mad about it.

Whatever. Tomorrow, they’ll be back in the lab, working through Saturday together, and it’ll be like nothing happened. Back to the usual bickering. What would Hermann do if Newt just… stopped arguing with him one day? Maybe he should try that, if only to wind him up.

He’s just dozing off when his phone vibrates. It’s a message from Hermann: _Thank you again. I’m sorry for the inconvenience._

He types back: _Dont sweat it man, just glad ur ok. Lemme kno if u have any other boyfriends needing the newt treatment ;)_

Hermann doesn’t reply to that one. With a sigh, Newt settles down again.

Ten minutes later, his phone vibrates again. _Do you think I’ll find someone?_

Newt groans. ‘Come on dude, what kind of question is that?’ _Sure, if u leave the lab now and then. Plenty of fish etc etc. if they cant recite pi to 50 digits dump em, theyre not worth ur time_

_I forget that my lab partner is a dating guru._

_Hey, you asked :P_

Newt waits, snuggled up under the covers. This is the most he and Hermann have messaged since their pen pal days which they don’t talk about.

_I know a lot of people. Perhaps I’ve already met The One. Or perhaps I’ve missed my chance. Maybe I blew it a long time ago._

Newt swallows. _Theres_ _always a chance dude_

He waits a while longer, but Hermann doesn’t respond. He’s probably passed out. Newt resolves to do the same, though he finds himself squeezing his arm where Hermann’s fingers left bruises.

The next morning, they both go down to the lab and work through Saturday together. Newt salvages the half-dissected eyeball, and to his surprise Hermann doesn’t comment on the smell or the mess. They still bicker as usual, but today there’s no real heat behind it.

When Newt tries to return the handkerchief, Hermann shakes his head. ‘Keep it,’ he says, and it sounds like a promise.

Eventually Newt will give it back to him, on the day they cancel the apocalypse and Hermann is throwing up after they Drift with an infant Kaiju. They’ll stand together in the pouring rain, having seen each others’ memories, and realise just how much they mean to each other.

For now, Newt smiles back at Hermann, folds up the handkerchief and slips it into his pocket.


End file.
